What's Left Of Remus
by Remchlomany
Summary: A letter written by Remus to Sirius after his death. SBRL Warning: Horribly depressing and angsty; mentions of character death and sexuality.


My Lov Dear Sirius,

I know you're dead. I'm not crazy. I don't harbor any delusions that you're somehow still alive, having jolly good adventures with Mr. Tumnus, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy in Narnia. Did you catch that? That was a reference to The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. Do you remember those books? I hope you do. I read them to you during the First War. I remember you would constantly try to distract me from reading. I still don't know how we managed to read all seven. I'm babbling aren't I? So, I repeat, I know you're dead. I can almost hear you asking, _But Moony, if you know I'm dead, why are you writing a letter to me?_ Well, I'll tell you. Don't get a big head over this, but I've been told that I've fallen into a state of depression since your death. I did some research, and one book said that writing a letter to the deceased person might help. I don't know how it will, though. It's not like you'll ever read this letter. It's not like writing this letter will bring you back.

Look what you did, Sirius. Now I'm crying. I hate crying. They say you shouldn't be afraid to cry, that it's not a sign of weakness. I think they're right. But I shouldn't be crying now, because I know for a fact I'm not crying for you, Sirius. I never have been a religious man, but I know there is some sort of afterlife. There has to be. We can't just fade into oblivion. I refuse to believe that. God, or whatever higher being, or beings, that controls the world, wouldn't be so cruel as to do that. So, in conclusion, I know you are in heaven, or what I'm going to call heaven for the time being. This is how I know I'm not crying for you. I'm crying for myself. It's selfish really. I'm crying because I no longer have you.

This isn't the first time I've cried for my loss of you. I know we talked about this many times when you were alive, but I think I'm going to tell you again. The morning after James and Lily died, I woke up without you next to me. This did not startle me; I figured you had just gone to buy some cigarettes. But then the afternoon arrived, and you still weren't back. I was worried, to say the least. But nothing could prepare me for when the Aurors came looking for you. I hadn't read the morning paper; I believe I had received the paper, then promptly forgot about it. I had no idea what had happened that night.

They say Harry's entire life changed on that night. They say he was the one the most heavily impacted. I'm not sure I agree with these people. In two days, I went from fighting a war with my three best friends and my lover, to having two of my friends dead, one assumed at the time to be dead, and my lover convicted for murder. I don't know how I reacted to this. I had no close friends to celebrate Voldemort's downfall with, and no reason to want to party. I was shattered. It wasn't even James and Lily's death that impacted me the most. You know that in The Order, you have to expect your friends to die. That's par. But nothing could have prepared me to lose you.

I think it was make worse by the fact that you were still alive. In fact, it would have been better knowing if you had died. Better dead than a traitor. I had to fall asleep every night thinking how you were sitting in Azkeban, most likely not regretting betraying everyone we thought you cared about, even me. I can't count the nights I stayed up crying, wondering if our whole relationship had been a lie, if somehow being involved with me would somehow allow you better access to the Order's plans. But then I'd remember that we had been involved since before the Order had even been founded, and proceed to confuse myself even more.

Years past. I jumped from job to job, eventually learning to block you from my mind and starting to regain what I considered stability. By day, I was Remus Lupin, the man who worked hard but couldn't keep a job for longer than three months, but by night, I was Moony, the broken man. You haunted my dreams. I dreaded closing my eyes, half longing to see your face again, half terrified of it. I… I still loved you, Sirius. Even though I had tried to break all affection towards you, I still loved you. It broke my heart to think of you sitting in a cell in Azkeban, cowering in your own memories. I know knew you, Padfoot, and I knew you don't didn't deal with sadness or fear well. During that time, I, if not reluctantly, cried for both of us. It should also be noted that I had no romantic relationships during these times, not even one night stands. I think I must have just given up on love, friendship too for that matter. My life consisted of myself, my books, whatever job I had at the moment, and my nightmares.

Then, one of the most wonderful things in my life happened: Dumbledore, rest his soul, asked me to come teach at the school. You know knew me, Pads, and you knew it was one of my dreams to be a professor. If my life had been normal, I wouldn't have hesitated to accept. But I did. The only reason I can come up with is that I was afraid of going back to the school, afraid of the memories it would bring back. Not that they were bad memories, quite the contrary. But paired with the memories of that one Halloween night, they became guilty memories. I think it was Survivor's Guilt. We had gone into the wars as five great friends, and I was the only one to come out considerably unscathed, if not utterly heartbroken and mentally scarred.

I eventually rationalized this fear out, and was actually starting to get excited about something for the first time in many years, when I read the news: You had escaped. I contacted a handful of old Order members on this, and received the new that you had escaped to kill Harry. I was not surprised by this; it seemed only natural that you want revenge on the boy that had caused both your master's and your downfall. No, the only thing I felt was fear. I feared for Harry. And then I met him on the train. Sirius, you knew Harry, probably better than I did; did he always look like the weight of the world was on his small shoulders? I don't know if I really see this, or if this is just my imagination, but for as long as I can remember, Harry, when neutral, seems to be hiding some immense sadness behind those eyes Lily has given him. I think I might just remember it this way, but Harry seemed very wearisome the first time I met him. But, then again, he _had_ just faced a dementor, so I might be wrong.

My year teaching at Hogwarts was one of the happiest and most eventful I had ever had. It was amazing; doing a job I had only daydreamed about. For a brief period of time, I felt I didn't need to hide my sadness, because the school was my therapy; it kept me calm, brought back part of me I thought had died on Halloween. It was nice to have intellectual people to talk to, and I even thought Severus was warming up to me. Sirius, I know you didn't like the man, but I still trust him. He might have a cold demeanor, but instinct told me Snape was ultimately good on the inside. I think I might tend to trust anyone who will brew my Wolfsbane. My transformations during this period were not as gentle as they had been when I had the Marauders, but not as painful as they had been for the last fourteen years. Sirius, this may sounds absurd, but I think the school has calming abilities for me. Or maybe it was just the fact that I loved my job that helped to ease my brain. It was not all pleasant, though.

As my daytime enjoyment increased, my nighttimes took a turn for the worst. Each time you would make what I assumed to be an attempt on Harry's life, I wouldn't sleep for a week. I tossed and turned, debating whether to tell Dumbledore you were an Animagi. I would stop myself every time, claiming you were using Dark Magic. It was also horrible hearing your name, your beautiful name, during the daytime. I could be having a casual conversation with someone, and they would mention you, not knowing what you had meant to me, and a tidal wave of emotions would flood through me, ranging from guilt to anger. I eventually limited my conversations with other adults, preferring solitude, and the occasional conversation with Harry.

I like to think I grew close to Harry; I'm not sure if I actually did. He was an exceptionally bright student, Pady. He was bold sometimes, like his dad, but he also had his mom's insight. Merlin, I miss Lily and James. I haven't thought about how much until just recently. Would you say hi to them for me? Tell them how much I miss them. I should probably continue…

Then, I saw you again. You heard the story. You know how I saw everything on the map and came running. But what I never told you is how worried I was for you when I finally saw you. Back then, you were so thin, so brittle-looking. I was highly concerned for the young man I used to know, who now looked like a skeleton. It terrified me. I wanted to run to Azkeban and tear it down brick by brick for doing this to you, for making you look so broken. That was the second time my heart broke, seeing you so devastated. But when I picked you up and hugged you, I have to tell you, I felt whole for the first time in Merlin knows how many years. It always felt that way when I touched you: right. No matter how small the touch was, it always felt like it was what was supposed to happen.

I shouldn't even be talking about this night. You were there. You know what happened. Sometimes I'll look back at that night, and I'll know it was my fault. If only I had remembered my potion, Peter might not have gotten away, and you might have been freed…

I think I'll move forward a year now. I know for a fact that the thought that you were out there and innocent both kept me whole and tore me apart. It was blissful knowing you weren't a traitor, but it was torture knowing I couldn't even contact you for your safety's sake. I muddled through life, not really paying attention to much, just waiting to see you again, trying to keep myself sane until then. And then there was the night Voldemort came back, which was a gift and a curse in its own right. I say a gift because it brought you to me. Those weeks we spent together, though slightly solemn because of our preparation for the impending war, were the happiest I had felt since pre-Halloween. It felt like a dream at times, having you safely in my arms, telling me how much you'd missed me too. I honestly felt like the luckiest man in the world.

But, I must admit, my dear Sirius, I tried not to grow too attached to you again. I felt like the world was taunting me, like it was handing you to me, then waiting to yank you back. And I was right, wasn't I? It let me have you for a year, then it took you away forever.

I'm getting ahead of myself. You know I tend to babble when I'm crying, and I'm crying now. But the memory of our time in Grimmauld Place always makes me cry. It was a new kind of torture seeing you suffer in that place. I wanted to cry every time you get that look on your face, the one that showed how much staying in that house was killing you. I tried my best to comfort you. I'm sure now that it wasn't enough. I felt like a failure, like you didn't feel like having me could comfort the horrible memories that haunted you at that address. I hope I wasn't right. I wasn't, right, honey? I sure hope not…

Then, quite suddenly, I died. Well, to put it more accurately, you died. But, I have to tell you, baby, I think I went with you. I don't feel like Remus Lupin anymore. People will say my name, and I won't even register that they have. I think there's a part of my brain that thinks, "How can I, Remus, be alive, when Sirius is not?" I have to agree. I am no longer Remus John Lupin, or Moony, or any other nickname that I've ever had. I'm a shell. That's it. I'm a hollow shell of Remus Lupin. I honestly don't even know how I can talk about _being_ Remus Lupin. I don't think he exists anymore.

So now, I cry at night again. Not for you, though. Like I said, you're happy now. You're in a better place, as they say. I cry for the death of Remus. I don't actually he died; actually, I believe his soul was sucked out. Now, I- I should really fashion a name for myself… I think REM will do- I, REM, have been left here, looking at the shattered pieces that used to be Remus.

I miss you so much, darling. I love you, and without you on this earth, I really don't know why I'm still here. I'm putting on my act again, pretending I'm in silent mourning when I'm really slowly dying. I haven't sleep in Merlin knows how long, for crying so much. I think Harry's taken your death almost as bad as I have. But everyone comforts Harry. Poor Harry, who had his godfather drastically ripped from him, the only family he had. Well, what about me? Doesn't anyone stop to think,"Maybe I should try and comfort Remus, seeing as Sirius was his lover and all." I mean, we tried to hide it, for fear of making each other a target for the Death Eaters, but even then, most of the Order at least thought we were like close brothers. They just seemed to be too preoccupied comforting little baby Harry to notice that I'm on the brink of suicide over here.

Merlin! … What have I become, honey? Suicide? And I'm jealous of Harry getting attention? I'm scared, sweetheart. I think part of my brain must have snapped when you died. I think this is what happens when I lose you twice in the same lifetime. Next time, let's stick together, okay?

I shouldn't be jealous of Harry. He's had little to no family, and you were almost like a father to him. He's had a horribly hard life, harder than anyone like him should have it, and he's handled it amazingly well. He deserves to be comforted. I should also say that I will never attempt suicide. I miss you so much and believe I can't live without you, but there's still a war going on, and I'm not leaving this earth until it's over. It's my duty to wait for death to come, and, in the meantime, help banish evil.

There's something I need to tell you, Sirius. You know your cousin, Tonks? Well, she's in love with me. And I married her. I can tell you're probably furious right now. Please, calm down. I don't love her. How could I? I only love you. But I thought of something when she came to me professing her feelings; I thought, "REM, you're just playing a waiting game for death right now. The least you can do while you're still here is try and make someone else happy." So I have. She's a wonderful girl and friend, but I will never love her. This makes me sick to my stomach with guilt sometimes, because I feel like I'm living a lie just for her sake. I also thought, "Maybe she could fill the gap Sirius left," but that was a foolish thought. How could anybody fill it but you?

We've had a kid, too. Yes, baby, that means I had sex with Tonks. I didn't do it for my own benefit; it was another act of charity before I leave. Let me tell you, sex with a girl is not enjoyable in the least bit. They make these small moans, and they kind of just sit there. It's like having sex with a noodle. Or maybe that's just what sex with Tonks is like. Anyways, his name's Teddy, and he looks almost nothing like me. I think this is the powers that be's way of punishing me for living this lie: the one kid I'll ever have, and he doesn't even resemble me. He's a Metamorphmagus, just like his mother. I hope he grows up to be a wonderful man. I want people to look at him and say, "That's Remus' kid." I'm so conflicted with wanting to stay here and see him grow and wanting death to come so I can be with you.

I think that's all I have to say, for now. I don't want to write too much, or else we won't have a lot to talk about when we see each other again. I miss you so much, Sirius, and I'll love you now and forevermore. I pray the day comes soon when I can be yours again; I just hope I can keep what's left of me whole until then.

Ever yours,

What's Left of Remus


End file.
